Wings Of Sanguinius
by Nomsheep
Summary: 40k stigmata


Chapter one: induction

'You are not guardsmen, you are not soldiers, you are not here to live. you are dogs and will die like dogs' Commissar Avoir

He squinted hard as he tried to look through the darkness. They would be coming soon, to take them away. The lucky ones were sent to the chamber. The others were given a chance to absolve themselves in the eyes of the almighty carrion lord. Soon they would come for him too; soon he would suffer the same as all the others. Death or redemption both of them ended in the same way. This place was a hellhole, a hive world exhausted of all that is natural and good. This small enclosed room was even worse than the outside, millions of people left in this spire to die or feel the wrath of the inquisition. Him and all his 'friends' had been thrown in this cell a little over a week ago, now they were gone and this room felt massive and empty.

He had been surprised when the adeptus arbites had dragged him in here, but what had surprised him more was why. He was a world class thief, most people on this planet had that skill, due to this being a penal colony, therefore nothing is safe. He had pickpocketed one of savlar's nobility, as he pulled his hand out of their pocket he had cut his palm. Fighting back a sharp intake of breath he had quickly retreated into the crowd. Fleeing quickly he had made his way home to the main spire and ditched off his lootings on the shelf. Then he had made his way to the ministorium temple to pray for his immortal soul. His hand had not stopped bleeding for some reason and the blood was beginning to change colour. On his way in he'd noticed two arbites personnel standing guard at the door. As he entered he placed his on the doorframe and smeared blood on it. Continuing up to the altar he'd bowed down, placing his hand on a statue of the immortal emperor. Then he had been grabbed by the two arbites that had been standing at the door and hauled out of the room.

He had been charged with heresy and accused of worshipping false and dangerous gods. The proof they presented was the ritual blood smears on the door and several heretical items on a shelf near the door. This was apparently, enough proof to have him executed. The sentence was passed and he has been locked away. He curled up in the corner and hugged himself for comfort and to try and stave off the encroaching cold. After a while he began to hear a soft tapping from down the hall, it was getting closer and closer. Soon it wasn't so soft and it was but a few metres began to sweat profusely as he heard the key turn in the lock and then the door swung open. In swept a regal looking man he recognized as Lord Commissar Avoir and behind him was a scarred female in ceremonial robes.  
"Prisoner Number 925608, come with us,now"

This feeling was new to him, as alien as anything he had ever fought. His body was trembling, his hearts were racing, and sweat was dripping down his brow. He was an astartes, chosen one of the emperor, child of khan. This should not have happened to him, they should never have strayed.  
He had turned against his brother's breaking an oath more sacred than life, committed atrocities that would follow him to his grave and for what to defend the honour of a man beyond hope, to become blessed in the eyes of heretical gods.  
He paused a moment and looked around the large circular room where he and his companions were being held. By the door on the left was a sign that said cargo bay. He then looked at his fellow marines; in almost every single set of eyes he registered defeat, fear or sorrow. Feelings no true astartes should be physically able to feel. These men that shared this room were supposed to be the saviours of mankind, the torch which blinded the darkness. They were part of a holy order, bred to know their place and yet they had forgotten it, pledged allegiance to a man of questionable motives. 'Lugft Huron'  
At the outset of the war things went in their favour, the vanguard of the loyalist forces had been caught be surprise and fell to the predations of the astral claws and the other fallen chapters, but all to quickly the tide of battle changed, the loyalist gained a foothold and they began to lose. Huron and the astral claws fled into maelstrom leaving the lamenters, the executioners and them to face the inquisitorial wrath.  
Now they were sat here, waiting for a decision from the ordo hereticus, whether or not to murder over hundreds of fighting men or spare their wretched lives. He lay back against the cold metal wall and reflected all that had occurred for a while. He'd noticed that this room had an airlock, and the door on his right side led into the cold void of space. The only explanation he had for this was that they wanted a quick way to exterminate them all should it come to that.  
After a while of reflection the door to his left unlocked and swung open. A few men wearing inquisitorial robes stepped inside accompanied by several women wearing power armour who were holding bolters. One of the men stepped forwards, cleared his throat, and then began to speak.  
"We the ordo hereticus, loyal servants of the emperor of mankind have reached a decision, foe your part in what is now known as the badab crusade, you will be exonerated in the eyes of our immortal lord.2 he paused a moment to let this sink in then he continued  
"This forgiveness comes at a hefty price though; you will forfeit your homeworld and ninety percent of your fleet to the space sharks, during your one hundred year penitence crusade, during this period you will not be allowed to take in new recruits, as you have not yet proved yourselves loyal."  
Taking a deep breath he began again  
"Your final act of penitence will be your chapter master, chaplain and company commander's execution tomorrow at dawn."


End file.
